


A Day in the Life

by AniPendragon



Category: Hot Wheels: Battle Force Five
Genre: Developing Relationships, Eventual Relationships, F/M, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Snapshots, connected oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9340991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniPendragon/pseuds/AniPendragon
Summary: Being part of the Battle Force 5 doesn’t just mean dealing with killer robots and mutant animals, it also means learning to deal with each other. Going from living alone to living with five (and then seven) other people isn’t easy, but they make it work.





	1. Illuminated

**Author's Note:**

> So I finally decided to throw my hat in and write a multi-chapter BF5 fic. This is a series of connected oneshots, taking place over the course of the series. Hope you enjoy them!
> 
> This first one takes place just after 'Gearing Up'.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their first mission as a team, Vert tries to find a way to get everyone to bond.

It was a few hours after their first mission as a team and the Battle Force 5 were lounged in the game room, alternating between chatting, playing, and just chilling. Spinner was fiddling with some game console that Vert didn’t even recognize – and he guessed that answered his question on whether or not any of them had brought anything with them – and Stanford was sitting between Spinner and Sherman, squinting at his phone with his lips pressed into a tight line.

The sun had set hours ago, the night long since fallen, but none of them seemed too keen on going to bed quite yet. Vert figured they were all still too keyed up from their first mission and everything else that had happened in the last day or so. Even he, enthusiasm and slightly more experience be damned, was still too floored and too energized by it all.

With a groan, Stanford said, “How can you _stand_ this place?” He put down his phone and stared at the ceiling, giving an overdramatic sigh. “The town, I mean, not this warehouse. It’s…” Stanford hesitated and Vert could practically see him wracking his brain for a non-insulting word. “Charming,” finished Stanford.

Vert shrugged, not taking the comment personally. Half of Handler’s Corners didn’t understand why Vert kept the warehouse. “I grew up here, dude, so I never saw the big deal. Besides,” he stretched, arms above his head and yawning a bit, “I’ve only been back for a couple months.” He didn’t mention how he’d been gone for almost eleven years, across the continent and in a place the furthest from Handler’s Corners he could find.

“God, if this mission doesn’t kill me then bloody boredom just might,” bemoaned Stanford.

Agura snorted, giving Stanford a flat look. “Have you _tried_ saying something, oh, I don’t know, nice?” she asked.

Stanford scoffed and straightened up in his seat, head held high and eyes on Agura. “I’m plenty nice. I said his house was ‘charming’, didn’t I?”

“Mm-hmm.” Agura rolled her eyes, the sarcasm thick in her tone even with that simple hum. Vert had the distinctive feeling he was going to be breaking up a lot of fights between those two in the near future. They were just too different.

They were _all_ too different, as a matter of fact. Different ages, races, classes, and backgrounds. Different ways of living and existing in the world. Vert had no idea how he was supposed to make them work together, on or off the field. Didn’t even really know how to lead a team, in fact. It’d been a while since he’d had this many friends in one group – if these five could even be called that – and Vert wasn’t quite sure what to do with the fact that he’d just picked up five roommates who had never lived in a place like Handler’s Corners before.

“I gotta admit, I’m with Stanford. This place is _tiny_ ,” said Spinner. He smacked his game controller with the back of his hand. “I’m surprised you even have decent wi-fi.” The others all gave varying murmurs of agreement, bar Zoom, who only shrugged and offered Vert an apologetic smile.

“Have none of you really ever lived in a place this small?” asked Vert. Surely, one of them had to be from some other small town. It couldn’t just be him that’d spent his life in a couple of small towns scattered across the continent.

“Nor this isolated,” said Stanford by way of response. The others nodded, though Zoom seemed more hesitant. Vert wasn’t sure how much of that was just Zoom’s personality or his actual background and how much of that was him not wanting to disappoint Vert. The guy seemed to have a mild case of hero worship.

Something else to deal with later.

It was kind of funny, that Vert was the only one with small town experience, but it made sense, given that he lived here. He’d lived in cities, but they’d never been the same. The city streets didn’t call to him the way the desert or tundra did.

“Do you…” Vert hesitated, pressing his lips together. The others all looked at him. “Do you guys want to see my favourite thing about living in a place like this?” he asked. The others looked to another and, one by one, they nodded.

Vert got to his feet and gestured for them to follow. “Come on,” he said. He led the five out of the room and to the stairs in the garage, where he headed up and pushed open the trapdoor at the top. Once he climbed out, Zoom followed, then the others followed closely after. They all looked out at the desert, none of them looking all that impressed.

“The desert?” asked Stanford. He sighed and gestured to the landscape all around them. “You want us to look at a bunch of _sand_?”

“No,” said Vert. He stuffed his hands in his back pockets and cracked a smile at them. “Look up.” He nodded upward, toward the sky, and watched as everyone’s gaze went to the night sky.

“Oh, wow,” breathed Sherman. Spinner nodded mutely and Agura smiled. Even Stanford stuffed his phone in his pocket, eyes wide and, for once, silent. Zoom stepped up next to Vert and folded his arms loosely across his chest. The two smiled at each other, Vert more reserved and Zoom’s more of a bright, cheery grin.

Above the six, high above the Salt Flats, were millions upon millions of tiny stars. They freckled the sky thickly enough to illuminate the desert lightly all around them. The moon hung, almost full, high above the desert sky, and it, alongside the stars, lit up the desert more beautifully than any street lights ever could. Not as bright, but cleaner, prettier.

Better.

“They’re almost the same,” said Zoom, softly.

Vert tilted his head to look at Zoom. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“The stars,” said Zoom, nodding to them. “They’re not all the same, but a lot of them are.” He smiled at the sky, soft and full of wonder. “I guess I’m not that far from home after all.”

“It’s a small world,” said Vert.

“But a big multiverse,” said Zoom. He grinned at Vert, eyes bright. “And we’re going to see it all.”

Vert, without really thinking about it, slung an arm around Zoom’s shoulders and yanked him into a sort of one-armed hug. Zoom didn’t protest. “And save it, too,” added Vert.

“Yeah,” said Zoom. He leaned a little against Vert and Vert caught himself smiling. It’d been too long since he could do this kind of thing – just absently toss an arm around a friend or revel in physical contact. Zoom was a strong contender for his favourite on the team right now, even if he shouldn’t pick favourites, because he didn’t seem surprised.

It was nice.

“All right, so maybe it’s not _all_ bad,” said Stanford. “But it’s still boring.”

“So, we’ll make it less boring,” said Vert. He looked over to all of them, pulling his arm off Zoom when he saw Spinner cock an eyebrow at it. Ignored the way his cheeks got warm at the look. He stepped forward and gestured to them. “We have each other. We’ll play video games, we’ll drive on the test track, we’ll hang out at the diner. This isn’t going to be just saving the world. We’re a team now.” He looked to Zoom, who grinned at him.

“We’re like a family,” said Zoom. “It’ll be fun.”

“Right,” said Vert. “And we’ll learn to work together.”

“Under you?” asked Stanford.

Vert cracked a smile. “On the field? Sure. But out here, we’re all equals. No man, or woman,” Agura smiled at him, “left behind. So, can we make this work?” He looked to the five. Zoom grinned at him, Agura smiled, and the Cortez brothers nodded. Stanford sighed.

“All right, all right,” said Stanford. He held out his fist and Vert bumped it. “So, we’re a team, now what?”

“Sleep,” said Vert. “Tomorrow, we start saving the world.” With that, the six dispersed and headed to bed, chatting quietly amongst themselves. Vert lingered on the roof a minute longer, looking up at the stars.

So maybe they weren’t perfect. Maybe they had a long way to go. But he could do this. He had a team, he had _friends_ , and he wouldn’t let any of them be left behind. Not now, not ever.


	2. Measured Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place just before episode 4.
> 
> Vert needs a break. The world is too heavy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I gave Vert anxiety.
> 
> Awesome.

Vert Wheeler was no chef. This was an unfortunate truth, universally acknowledged by anyone who had spent any amount of time around him. While he could handle basic stuff, like making pasta and heating things up, the finer points of cooking had always evaded him, no matter how many hours he and his mother put into the kitchen.

Which was why it made absolutely no sense to him that he was making pancakes at six in the morning.

Sure, in theory, he could make pancakes, but with Zeke’s diner open around eight, which was when most of the team got up, it didn’t make sense for Vert to put in this much effort to something that could be handled in other ways.

Hell, he could have sprung for a pizza party after the next battle zone and called it a win, but, for some reason, it didn’t feel adequate.

No, he wanted to make them breakfast. He wanted to be there to see how they were doing for the day. He wanted to make sure they were all prepared for the challenges ahead. Maybe he was being overzealous, over overeager, but it was hard to care.

He’d just been so _lonely_ the last few months.

So goddamn _lonely._

Vert sighed and set down the bowl full of pancake batter. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, grimacing. Exhaustion clung to his bones, a testament to the fact that he’d gone to sleep well after midnight and woken up at six in the morning.

He would have liked to go back to sleep, in truth. He wasn’t really going to have to make these pancakes for another two hours or so, but he couldn’t. Besides, the batter was always better when he refrigerated it first. Of course, that meant Vert could technically go back to bed and wait for the rest of the team to get back up.

Not that he would.

Not that he _really_ could.

The weight of what they were doing was finally starting to sink in, leaving him feeling heavy and exhausted no matter how much he slept. It was as though the whole world was crashing down on him, and he was the only one taking it seriously. How could he train five people who just wanted to compete? How could he keep them alive when they barely listened to him?

He had a sinking fear that there would be a zone where they just didn’t listen, where they went off and did their own thing and Vert would be left alone all over again.

_That’s how it works. Everyone leaves you in the end._

Vert shook off the thought and sucked in a deep breath, bracing his hands on the counter and counting to ten.

_One, two._

He was fine. Everyone was fine. His team was safe. His _friends_ were safe.

_Three, four._

These were just thoughts. He could overcome them. He always did before. He just had to take a deep breath and count.

_Five, six._

They would learn. This was still early on in their training. Of course they were sloppy, of course they were ridiculous, of course they were messing around. He just had to work with it.

_Seven, eight._

He wondered what the team would think, if they saw him like this, fighting his own head. Sage had called him fearless. He wasn’t, not even close, but he’d never let it stop him. The outside world was nothing. Extreme sports, motocross, indy racing, it was all nothing to him. Death didn’t scare him.

_Nine._

It was the constant spinning of his own thoughts, stretching out worst case scenarios, that did. It was the idea of being alone again, of losing everyone and knowing it was his fault, that did.

He couldn’t take that again.

_Breathe, Vert, come on._

He took his last breath.

_Ten._

Vert opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to relax as far as he could.

Fearless.

That was a riot.

Not that he’d ever let them see that. His team could continue to believe what they wanted. They could see him as the fearless, pun-filled, cocky jock with an attitude a mile long. It wasn’t that far from the truth, anyway. And what wasn’t true? Well, let it never be said that Vert Wheeler wasn’t a good actor.

Being a theatre kid tended to do that for you.

Vert sighed and picked up the bowl of batter, covering it with plastic wrap before setting it in the fridge. When that was done, he leaned against the fridge, eyes closed and forehead resting on the cool metal.

“Vert?” Vert blinked, lifting his head off the fridge and looking at the entrance way. Sherman stood there, arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face. The concern on his face was plain as day, and Vert rolled his shoulders, sliding back into leader-mode so smoothly that even he barely registered the transition.

“Hey, Sherm, did you need something?” asked Vert.

Sherman shook his head. “Was just going to the bathroom and saw the light on,” he said in a quiet voice. He frowned at Vert, lips pressed into a thin line. “Are you okay?”

“’Course,” said Vert, shrugging. He cocked his head to Sherman and gave a smile that felt easier than it should have. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re up at six am and you were leaning against the fridge,” said Sherman. Sherman wrinkled his brow before his expression fell to something much softer than before. “You know, if you need to talk, we’re all here for you, right?”

Vert walked up to Sherman and clapped him on the shoulder. “’Course,” he said, aware that he was repeating words. “C’mon, let’s get back to sleep while we still can. Gotta be well rested for fighting aliens.”

Sherman sighed as Vert walked past him. “Night, Vert,” he said, still sounding worried.

“Night, Sherm,” said Vert. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked back to his room, not allowing himself to tense up again until he was safely hidden away behind his closed bedroom door.

Vert closed his eyes and leaned against the door.

_Too close._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are love!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are love!


End file.
